


Divine Cockblocking

by Lavavulture



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Cultural Differences, M/M, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-24
Updated: 2016-07-24
Packaged: 2018-07-26 11:46:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7572925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lavavulture/pseuds/Lavavulture
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dorian is just trying to have a frustratingly slow courtship with Cole and Mother Giselle gets too involved once again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Divine Cockblocking

If Dorian made a list of people he never wanted to walk in on him while he was aroused, Mother Giselle would have been in the top five, right under his parents and Solas, who probably would have put him off sex for life.

So when Mother Giselle opened the door to the private study under the Keep where Dorian had been nominally trying to teach Cole to read Tevene and actually just enacting a lurid teacher fantasy, it was definitely a bad surprise.

“Am I interrupting?” Mother Giselle asked softly, sounding as maternal as she did disapproving as Dorian practically flung himself away from where he’d been draped over Cole’s slumped back at the desk, whispering instructions to him in a way that wouldn’t have been condoned by his old tutors.

“Well. Hello.” Dorian tried to sound as distant and formal as he always did around the Chantry mother. She’d apologized for her part in his father’s scheme and he did think that she was sincere, but he still knew that she wasn’t comfortable with him and he wasn’t interested in trying to change that. But this was a bit beyond the pale of being uncomfortable.

“Hello. I was looking for you, Cole.” And Cole turned to Mother Giselle with the same big, placid eyes he showed everyone, just as if he hadn’t had Dorian’s mouth working its way down his neck a second ago. “I wanted to thank you for your lovely gift. Can I assume that it was you who left this for me in my room?”

Mother Giselle held up what Dorian could only describe as the ugliest stuffed lump he’d ever seen in his life.

“Yes.” Cole seemed unconcerned about his half-opened shirt and Dorian didn’t think it would help anything if he tried to make him look more presentable. “The stitching on the bottom is different because the needle kept sticking to my thumb but I thought that it would help you sleep better.”

“It will.” Somehow it seemed that Mother Giselle had completely forgotten that Dorian was in the room. She was smiling so gently and sincerely at Cole that it was almost sickening. “You are such a good child. Andraste has truly blessed us with you.”

Then Mother Giselle turned to leave but before she did her eyes landed deliberately on Dorian’s slightly disheveled robes and she paused. “I believe that the Herald is searching for you, Lord Pavus.”

 

“Oh, yes, I was looking for you,” Adaar said distractedly. He was sitting in front of a massive landscape painting, half-completed and almost devastatingly beautiful. It was nearly as beautiful as Adaar himself, who as always was dazzling as he smiled at Dorian.

Dorian didn’t think that it was right that Adaar was so completely gorgeous and yet also as heavily muscled as all the Qunari seemed to be. Iron Bull was as powerfully built as his name implied but he rather looked like he’d fought face-first with every sword he’d ever encountered. By contrast Adaar resembled old drawings of male desire demons and was somehow completely unaware of how handsome he was.

“Yes?” Dorian ventured when it became clear that Adaar was about to fall into another contemplative trance in front of his painting.

“Right.” Adaar closed his eyes briefly and then returned his paintbrush to the canvas. “I want to take you, Sera, and Blackwall to the Emerald Graves in two days. There was a statue there that I want a better look at. And Blackwall was looking for something, I can’t remember.”

“You’re not taking Iron Bull? I thought that the two of you had become rather joined at the hip.” And Dorian had to pause a moment to contemplate that image, as he had for more nights than he cared to remember since the Inquisitor had taken the big mercenary to bed with him. 

“Hmmm, no, not this time,” Adaar said mildly, a faint smile plumping his already bewitching lips before he returned his attention fully on the painting. It was clear that he would be gone for hours. Dorian stomped away, cranky and well-aware that it was frustration that was making him so. 

Dorian blamed Mother Giselle for leaving him in such a vulnerable state in which to talk to Adaar. Of course since he and Cole had gone little further than heated kisses and fairly mild caresses, he was always in a bit of a vulnerable state.

He wouldn’t dream of rushing things along, however. Ever since that shocking night when Cole had first kissed him, as they’d bowed their heads over an ancient manuscript, they’d progressed at a slow, romantic pace. He was perfectly happy with it. Perfectly.

“Hey, Vint, have you seen Krem anywhere?” Iron Bull asked Dorian loudly as he entered the tavern.

“I’m not a scout. It’s not my job to know where everybody is all the time. And he’s your lieutenant,” Dorian snapped, stomping over towards the stairs. 

“Touchy,” Iron Bull rumbled and laughed. The sound absolutely didn’t go straight to Dorian’s dick, no sir. 

Dorian took a moment on the second floor landing to fully collect himself. It was perhaps a foolish bit of vanity on his part since Cole could see past his perfectly coiffed appearance to the sea of thwarted desire boiling in him but it was the principle of the thing. 

Cole didn’t look at him as he approached but his voice was warm as he spoke in Dorian’s general direction, “The hands don’t summon them; it’s the intent that matters. That’s why they left her there.”

“Oh, certainly,” Dorian said and smiled dazzlingly as if he understood what the hell Cole was talking about. “What are you doing up here today? Listening to the cook feel sorry for making such a poor stew last night?”

“I liked the stew,” Cole murmured, turning half towards him. It looked like a shy gesture but Dorian had grown to think that there wasn’t really as much shyness in Cole as there was a vague uncertainty that what he was saying matched the conversation and a growing awareness that it probably didn’t.

“I’ll give you my portion then tonight.” Dorian drew closer and slid his fingers lightly over a newly torn patch at the bottom of Cole’s shirt. “Your clothes are going to fall right off of you at this rate.”

The words were supposed to be a light, sexy tease but Cole’s unblinking eyes and Dorian’s frustration-laden voice made them heavier. Cole tilted his head down the scant distance between his mouth and Dorian’s waiting lips. At first he just rested his soft mouth against him until Dorian pressed back and then they were kissing, slow and sensual.

Dorian would never have dreamed that he could feel this sort of heady desire for Cole of all people; vague and unkempt and helpful Cole. He might have been offended if someone had told him about the way his body would tense in delicious anticipation when Cole’s fingers would ghost lightly over his side, but only because he was not an inexperienced man and Cole had less practical experience than a newly ordained Chantry sister. Surely it should be Cole that was kept on the knife’s edge of desire, always in danger of falling straight down. 

But Cole seemed fairly content with each step they were on, lingering and exploring as though he was in no real hurry to proceed any further, despite the tender flush that trailed up his neck along with Dorian’s lips and teeth and despite the long, hard length that Dorian often felt pressed against him under Cole’s tight leathers when they kissed in dark corners. And Dorian was fine with that, really he was, but at this point his prick might fall off from him handling it so much every night. 

“Let’s go somewhere a little more private,” Dorian said when the sound of Sera squawking something ridiculous pierced its way up to the attic. He again slid his finger along the tear in Cole’s shirt and grinned crookedly at him as he tugged on it. “Your bedroom perhaps?”

Cole tilted his head like a bird and looked confused. “I don’t have a bedroom.”

“No?” Dorian was distracted out of his perpetual horniness by the idea. “Then where do you sleep at night?”

“Here?” Cole glanced around him as if confirming his statement to himself. He pointed to a door behind them. “The Iron Bull sleeps in there. He’s loud.”

“Well, that’s ridiculous!” Dorian sputtered, waving his hands around the room to show how upset he was over the idea. “There’s no bed in here.”

“I can sleep without a bed. Can’t you?” Cole looked very curious all of a sudden and normally Dorian loved to engage with the spirit’s arousing curiosity but this was important.

“It’s not right. You deserve to sleep on one of those awful pincushions the South calls beds.” Dorian paused and thought about it until he came to the obvious solution to both of their problems. “You must sleep with me. I insist on it.”

A soft, slight cough drew Dorian’s attention back to the stairs where inexplicably and horribly Mother Giselle was standing there, staring at them. She folded her hands into the large blanket she was carrying as he glanced back. Her face was serene as she spoke, “I’m sorry to interrupt.”

 _Then why do you keep bloody doing it_ was the thought running through Dorian’s mind but before he could say that, Cole broke away from him to go towards her.

“Soft and safe when the thunder came. She missed it in the barracks at night,” Cole said, reaching out to touch the blanket in Mother Giselle’s arms.

Mother Giselle’s eyes filled up with tears and Dorian was profoundly annoyed to realize that he felt like he was intruding when he was the one who was intruded on, thank you very much. She flicked the moisture away before pushing the blanket into Cole’s hands. 

“When Lace told me you slept up here, I thought that you must be cold at night.” Mother Giselle was smiling so beatifically at Cole that Dorian had to throw his hands up into the air and sit on the nearest box. The faint squeaking that erupted from it startled him but since Mother Giselle and Cole were too busy regarding one another with knowing warmth, it didn’t matter. 

“Thank you,” Cole said politely like the sweet boy that he was and Dorian shouldn’t have been so turned on by it but he really was.

“Think nothing of it, my child,” Mother Giselle said and then glanced around the room. Her eyes flitted over Dorian quickly before landing on the scant belongings Cole had in his corner. She turned back to Cole and spoke with sudden concern in her voice, “But where do you sleep?”

“Over there.” Cole gestured vaguely to his corner. “The floor shakes when the Iron Bull wakes up in the morning and I can hear Sera talking to the birds on the roof when they see the sun. She’s not very nice to them.”

“Oh, that won’t do at all. Come with me, my child, and I’ll straighten this all out,” Mother Giselle said firmly. She took Cole’s hand in her own and began pulling him towards the stairs.

Dorian stood, only realizing her intention when they were already halfway down the first set of stairs. He went to the landing and looked down. Cole stared back up at him with round, uncertain eyes before Mother Giselle gently herded him away.

“What just happened?” Dorian asked himself. Sera’s raucous laughter from the second floor was as good an answer as anything else.

 

“What do you know about Mother Giselle?” Dorian asked Cullen as he moved one of his pieces across the stone board.

“Mother Giselle? She was the Reverend Mother in Jader.” Cullen leaned over the board, rubbing his handsome chin and leveling his handsome eyes on each piece with careful consideration. Dorian was annoyed with how handsomely he did everything considering that he probably had just gotten up that morning and looked like that.

Of course Dorian was blessed with natural good looks and could be beguiling even after spending the night reading in his chair at the library—which he’d done after failing to figure out where Mother Giselle had squirrelled Cole away to—but he’d still spent a civilized amount of time preparing that morning to be as devastatingly attractive as he usually was. It was irritating to think that Cullen didn’t have to do anything to be more handsome than the majority of the Magisterium on a good day.

“She’s known for her charity work and her troubles with the Orlesian Chantry.” Cullen was Fereldan enough to look pleased at the thought of upsetting an Orlesian organization, even if it belonged to his own faith.

“I see,” Dorian said coolly and took one of Cullen’s pawns.

“Why?” Cullen asked and Dorian was reminded that although the Commander seemed as simple as most Fereldans, he wasn’t a fool.

“I was just curious.” Dorian waved his hand dismissively. “She seems very interested in Cole’s comings and goings.”

Which was cutting into Dorian’s interest in the same things. He didn’t consider himself a paranoid man but he could spot a pattern that was right in front of him and it seemed like goodly Mother Giselle was attempting to keep him from despoiling Cole. This couldn’t really make him want to do it more given the fact that he felt like he’d been half-hard for weeks but it did add a smug glee to the idea. He’d corrupt anyone he wanted to and the void could take anyone who disagreed, especially the clergy. He’d heard enough pointed comments from the Imperial Chantry that a man’s duty was to take a wife and seed his magic unto the next generation. He couldn’t imagine how the celibate Southern sects regarded romance between men, especially the sort of gentle, slow kind he’d been engaging in with Cole.

Cullen let a small handsome frown cross his face at the mention of Cole and he leaned back. “It’s really none of my business but I think you should be careful with Cole. I’ve noticed that you’ve grown closer.”

Dorian almost rolled his eyes. Southerners were so damned skittish around anything magical, especially their templars. It was a wonder that the Southern mages learned any magic at all.

“I’ll be very careful,” Dorian said with exaggerated assurance and stood up. “I think this game is a wash, Commander.”

“I meant no offense,” Cullen said, sounding almost worried. Dorian was mollified a bit. The Commander had grown to be much more tolerant and understanding of him than most of the other members of the Inquisition.

“None taken,” Dorian said broadly. He was about to leave the garden when Mother Giselle entered it, Cole at her heels like an obedient puppy. Dorian paused by the table, admiring Cole in the soft light of the morning. He actually looked rather well-rested for him, or at least the dark circles under his eyes were slightly less cavernous. Altogether he wasn’t the effortless beauty that Cullen and the Inquisitor were but at the sight of him Dorian’s entire body tightened in anticipation. He looked so sweet in the morning, with his rumpled clothes and messy hair, and it made Dorian think of other reasons a man could look like that. 

Cole spotted him and his frowning mouth inched up slightly but Mother Giselle led him over to a soldier sitting on a bench by the gazebo. The soldier stood as Mother Giselle came to a stop in front of him, respectfully inclining his head towards her as she spoke to him. Dorian couldn’t hear what she was saying but he did catch the way that the soldier turned his head towards Cole as she spoke, his light eyes contemplative.

“Who is that soldier?” Dorian asked, looking him over thoroughly. He was tall and fairly broad in the way that so many Fereldan men were with nondescript features and a solemn air about him.

“Davenport,” Cullen said distractedly as he reset the table. “Good man. Very devout.”

“Hmmmm.” Dorian narrowed his eyes as Mother Giselle finished her spiel and then left the two men to stare at one another. After a moment Davenport began speaking to Cole, who tilted his head in that endearing way he had and responded. It seemed clear the Mother Giselle was trying to recruit her faithful followers to distract Cole away from his influence. Dorian nodded to Cullen, “I’ve changed my mind. Let’s go another round.”

 

Dorian Pavus didn’t get jealous. That was completely absurd. He was gorgeous and brilliant and confident and that left no reason for him to be glaring at the wide back of a Fereldan soldier who probably couldn’t recite his lineage back to his great-grandfather, much less to the start of the Imperium.

So he was not upset that Cole seemed content to sit with the soldier for over an hour, talking and listening with all the force his lean face could muster. Cole was adorably friendly and probably didn’t know how to politely extract himself from a boring situation. Dorian would have to teach him that skill, right after he taught him a good dozen more useful ones. Frankly Dorian didn’t usually waste his politeness on something like that.

Finally Davenport stood and nodded to Cole before walking out the garden. The man looked confused but intrigued in a way that Dorian understood only too well. It was a terrible look on him and outrageous besides. Of course Mother Giselle couldn’t even provide a platonic distraction for Cole. She’d somehow managed to introduce Cole to the one follower she had who would also want to push the spirit into a private corner and kiss him until he shivered. Incompetent woman. Dorian could have done much better.

Only after Davenport left did Cole wander over to the table where Dorian and Cullen were playing the slowest game of chess ever played by man. 

“Oh, hello, Cole,” Dorian said and flashed him his most charming, crooked smile, confident that he was much more resplendent in the early morning light than the soldier. “Fancy meeting you here.”

“Hello,” Cullen said, not too stiffly considering and nodded to Cole. “Care to join us?”

“No.” Cole tilted his head as he looked down at the statues. He set one of his long-fingered hands on Dorian’s most endangered piece and frowned before turning his full attention on Dorian. “Can you show me that book again?”

“Yes.” Dorian stood up so fast that it was a wonder he didn’t crack his knee under the stone table. He forced himself to nod in a cool way down to Cullen. “Let’s give this one to you, shall we?”

Cullen sighed and nodded, his dark eyes faint with disapproval. Even how handsome he looked when he was judging someone didn’t stop the spark of irritation flowing up Dorian’s back but to his credit Cullen didn’t say anything.

“Come now,” Dorian said to Cole and led the way back through the garden. Cole’s hand swung down close to his and Dorian had an insane moment when he wanted to gather up Cole’s pale, cool fingers in his own hand. It would be terribly inappropriate in public, even for him, but the urge was strong.

“Why would it be wrong?” Cole asked and edged those cool fingers closer until the tips touched Dorian’s hand. “It feels nice when you touch me.”

Dorian chuckled at the spirit’s probing. He found it so intriguing so long as Cole didn’t delve too deeply into his still-aching wounds. The mind raced with its practical applications in bed. He leveled another crooked smile on him. “It’s just not done. All these soldiers and nobles would be even more scandalized by me than they already are. We should save that up for a dull day.”

Cole frowned heavily, which always just made him look miserable and Dorian pulled him to a stop in the empty hallway. He straightened out a large wrinkle on Cole’s shirt and tried to make his voice as light as possible, “Now don’t pout, charming as it is. It’s just the way that things are.”

“No,” Cole said. His breathy voice lacked all of its usual hesitancy.

“No?” Dorian’s brow knit together in confusion. “Do you mean that you won’t stop pouting or that that’s not how the world is? Because it certainly is.”

“You’re wrong.” Cole stared fiercely at Dorian as he wound his long fingers into one of the buckles on his shirt. 

Dorian scowled despite himself. “Your new fan certainly finds it objectionable.”

Cole tilted his head in surprise and then actually laughed, the sound unpracticed and light. “Mother Giselle worries, wants me to wait for the right way. She thought Davenport would be kinder to me than you, no airs or tricks from the Black Divine’s faithful follower.”

“She was trying to play matchmaker for you and that oaf?” Dorian’s eyes widened in shock. 

“He’s very nice,” Cole said disapprovingly. “He goes to prayers every morning and wants to have his own farm. Mother Giselle thought that it would be good for me. I do like farms.”

Cole contemplated that for a moment before he slid his fingers tighter into Dorian’s buckles. His warm breath was light against him. “She feels bad that she wanted to trick you before because it wasn’t right but she still sees the Imperium—conquering and crushing—when you touch me. She doesn’t know that you’re nice too. ”

“You hold your tongue,” Dorian said sharply, feeling a strange weight lifting off of him. It was odd to think that he would feel relieved that Mother Giselle objected to his homeland and his completely justified confidence and not his love of men but it did make him feel better.

“Why?” Cole asked, startled, and Dorian smiled, slow and wicked and sensuous.

“Let me show you why,” he murmured and kissed Cole, long and deep. And if anybody came across them in the hallway, neither of them paid them any mind at all.

**Author's Note:**

> I genuinely like Mother Giselle, especially when I read up on her background on the Dragon Age wiki. I think that the character provided an interesting moment in the game that felt like one thing but was really something else and I appreciate that she was willing to admit that she was wrong. I especially liked it in Trespasser where it's obviously become clear to her that Dorian wants to change the Imperium for the better and isn't a spoiled, arrogant child running away from his rich, privileged home, which is what I believe she thought he was in the beginning.


End file.
